Scandals Of The Famous

About the Authors

KATE HEWITT has worked a variety of different jobs, from drama teacher to editorial assistant to youth worker, but writing romance is the best one yet. She also writes women’s fiction and all her stories celebrate the healing and redemptive power of love. Kate lives in a tiny village in the English Cotswolds with her husband, five children, and an overly affectionate Golden Retriever.

CAITLIN CREWS discovered her first romance novel at the age of twelve. It involved swashbuckling pirates, grand adventures, a heroine with rustling skirts and a mind of her own, and a seriously mouth-watering and masterful hero. Caitlin has made her home in places as far-flung as York, England and Atlanta, Georgia. She currently lives in California, with her animator/comic book artist husband and their menagerie of ridiculous animals.

USA TODAY bestselling author SARAH MORGAN writes lively, sexy stories for Mills & Boon. Romantic Times has described her writing as ‘action packed and sexy’ and nominated her books for their Reviewer’s Choice Awards and their ‘Top Pick’ slot. Sarah lives near London with her husband and two children who innocently provide an endless supply of authentic dialogue. Readers can find out more about Sarah and her books from her website www.sarahmorgan.com. She can also be found on Facebook and Twitter.

Scandals of the Famous

The Scandalous Princess

Kate Hewitt

The Man Behind the Scars

Caitlin Crews

Defying the Prince

Sarah Morgan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08338-6

SCANDALS OF THE FAMOUS

The Scandalous Princess © 2012 Harlequin Books S.A The Man behind the Scars © 2012 Harlequin Books S.A Defying the Prince © 2012 Harlequin Books S.A

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Authors

Title Page

Copyright

Princess From the Shadows

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

The Girl Nobody Wanted

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Playing the Royal Game

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

About the Publisher

The Scandalous Princess

Kate Hewitt

CHAPTER ONE

‘NOW there, at least, is a Jackson who has bettered himself.’

Princess Natalia Santina glanced at her mother, whose arctic tone belied what had sounded like a compliment. Queen Zoe’s eyes were narrowed, her lips pressed together in disapproval. Her usual look then. Natalia turned to see who was the subject of her mother’s grudging praise. Her gaze moved through the crowd of well-heeled guests who had come to the engagement party of her older brother Alessandro and his unexpected fiancée, Allegra, daughter of British tabloid fodder and ex-footballer Bobby Jackson, to finally rest on Ben Jackson, Allegra’s older brother and self-made millionaire. Not that the money made a difference to her mother. Anyone, she liked to say with a sniff, could make money. Breeding was what mattered.

After all, the fiancé who had thankfully just broken Natalia’s own engagement—Prince Michel of the small mountain principality of Montenavarre—hadn’t had much money. He’d claimed Natalia had possessed impossibly expensive tastes, which was undoubtedly true for him. Prince Michel might be second in line to the throne but he was practically penniless, and in any case Natalia had no intention of spending her life in some draughty castle in the Alps, listening to her husband go on and on about his country’s tediously noble history.

The question of just how she intended to spend her life remained, as yet, unanswered. For the moment Natalia was simply glad to enjoy her reprieve from matrimony. Nothing in her experience so far had recommended it.

Now her own gaze narrowed as she took in Ben Jackson’s powerful form. He was dressed in a well-cut grey silk business suit, his tie a sober navy, his movement restrained and precise as he chatted to another guest. Unlike his father, whose flashy tie, booming voice and expansive gestures proclaimed new money like nothing else could, Ben Jackson was the epitome of understated male elegance. Queen Zoe, Natalia had noticed with a stab of amusement, had held out only two fingers for Bobby Jackson to shake and flinched visibly when he’d lavishly kissed her hand instead.

‘What does Ben Jackson do exactly?’ she asked her mother, who stiffened at the vulgarity of such a question. Natalia knew you weren’t supposed to ask what people did, because of course people of class didn’t do anything. Not for money. Queen Zoe didn’t even like to mention the successful business ventures of her own son and heir to the throne. Sometimes Natalia wondered if her mother had stepped from the pages of a Victorian novel, or even a time machine. Her attitudes certainly did not belong to this century.

‘He’s an entrepreneur, as far as I can tell,’ Zoe said stiffly. ‘Something in finance.’

How boring, Natalia thought, even as she eyed the oldest Jackson with undisguised feminine appreciation. The set of his shoulders underneath the tailored grey silk was impressive indeed. He lifted one long-fingered hand to make a point, his blazing eyes and set mouth creating an expression, Natalia decided, of controlled enthusiasm. He felt deeply, but he didn’t want anyone to know. She’d always been good at reading expressions, and gauging a person’s attitude. It had certainly helped her through twelve years of incomprehensible education, when often the curve of a mouth or lift of an eyebrow was the only clue as to whether she’d got it right or wrong.

‘Who is he talking to?’ she asked her mother. ‘Ben Jackson, I mean?’

Her mother sighed with the kind of weary disappointment Natalia was long used to. ‘He’s talking to the minister of culture and tourism,’ she told her, ‘which you would know, if you professed any interest in or duty to the country of your birth and family.’

Natalia did not reply. She knew her mother was really referring to her recently broken engagement. Both her parents had wanted her off their hands and out of the country. At twenty-seven, happily unmarried and with a rather active social life, she was an embarrassment to the royal family. At least this time it was by choice.

‘You’re right, Mother,’ Natalia said with as much docility as she could muster. ‘I should be familiar with Santina’s ministers. I suppose I’ll have to remedy that immediately.’

And with a suggestive sway of her hips, she sauntered over to where Ben Jackson was still looking intriguingly … passionate.

The word slid slyly into her mind. Ben Jackson didn’t look like a passionate man. The shoulders were impressive, yes, but everything about the man from his sober suit to his close-cut brown hair said restrained. Controlled. Boring, even. A man who guarded his passions—if he had them at all—carefully.

‘Princess Natalia!’ The minister of culture and tourism inclined his head in a nod as Natalia approached. She smiled, reaching out to shake his hand.

‘Minister. How lovely to see you again.’ The minister blinked, and Natalia wished she’d thought to ask the man’s name before she’d come over. It would have added a nice touch.

‘Likewise, Your Highness,’ the minister responded after a pause, and still smiling, Natalia turned to Ben Jackson. Up close he wasn’t quite so boring. His body radiated a certain leashed power, and despite his aura of restrained wealth and prestige, Natalia still felt an undercurrent of cynical wariness that intrigued her. He might have risen far on his own, but he hadn’t left the boy behind. But then, you could never really leave behind the child you’d been … even if you wanted to. Desperately.

His eyes were blue, navy like his tie, and now they were narrowed not in admiration or even assessment but … amusement, Natalia realised with an icy pang of shock. He was laughing at her. The thought caused a stab of irritation to knife through her. If there was one thing she couldn’t stand it was to be laughed at. The butt of someone’s silent joke. It had happened too many times before.

‘I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,’ she said, switching from Italian to English. She held out her hand, and Ben Jackson’s mouth flicked upwards at one corner, the faintest of mocking smiles.

‘Not formally,’ he agreed, ‘although I know you are one of the Santina princesses, and you undoubtedly know I am a Jackson.’ He took her fingers in his own for the most cursory of handshakes, but Natalia was still left with an impression of latent strength.

‘Ah, but which Jackson?’ she replied with a lift of her brows. ‘There are so very many of you.’

Ben Jackson narrowed his gaze, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Natalia gave him a bland smile back. She would not be anyone’s amusement. Not ever again. If she amused, it would be by choice, not because of what she could—or couldn’t—do.

‘And there are quite a few Santinas as well,’ he replied in as bland a tone as her smile. ‘Large families are such blessings, aren’t they?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Natalia murmured, although she’d hardly call her large family a blessing. Their relationships were too fractured and distant for that. Save for her twin sister, Carlotta, Natalia didn’t feel particularly close to anyone in her family, and certainly not her parents. Yet knowing what she did of Bobby Jackson’s clan, she didn’t think Ben thought his family such a blessing either.

The minister of tourism and culture had excused himself with a murmur, and Natalia nodded to his retreating back. ‘You were certainly having a cozy chat with our minister. Are you planning on spending some time on our fair island?’ She’d spoken playfully, giving him a flirtatious look from under her lashes, but Ben Jackson remained all too expressionless. Unaffected, or perhaps still amused.

‘As a matter of fact, I am.’

‘A holiday, perhaps?’

‘Not quite.’

He was definitely amused. Natalia suppressed another stab of irritation. She was used to managing such conversations better, or, if she were honest, wrapping men like Ben Jackson around one manicured pinkie. No, not men like Ben Jackson. She had a feeling she hadn’t met many men like Ben Jackson, which was something to be thankful for. The man was downright annoying.

‘Then perhaps,’ she suggested, ‘you’re here to keep an eye on your sister? Make sure she behaves herself?’

‘My sister is an adult and perfectly capable of behaving herself,’ Ben replied coolly, ‘unlike some women who have been happily plastered across the pages of most of the tabloids of Europe.’

Natalia jerked back just a little, shocked by the sudden sharpness in his tone. He didn’t sound amused any more; he sounded condemning. She knew she was featured heavily in most tabloids and gossip magazines. She sought out such publicity deliberately. Yet hearing this aggravating man mock her for the exaggerated stories of her evening exploits made her now burn with fury—and shame.

‘Then you must be watching out for the rest of your family,’ she said with an answering edge to her voice. She let her gaze sweep through the room, lingering pointedly on his outrageous father, who was laughing far too loudly, before moving on to one of his sisters arguing heatedly with a guest, and then another sister—some kind of reality TV star, for heaven’s sake!—who certainly looked the part, before finally resting on yet another sister, a curvy blonde who was poured into a dress and flirting outrageously with a man twice her age. ‘I don’t believe all of them are able to behave themselves, are they?’

Ben’s expression didn’t change, not one bit, yet Natalia experienced a ripple of unease anyway. She felt again that impression of latent strength, leashed power.

‘I believe,’ Ben said softly, ‘this is a case of the pot calling the kettle black.’

She lifted her chin. ‘I hardly think we can compare families, Mr Jackson, despite their similar sizes.’

‘Ah, I see. You’re a snob as well as a brat.’

Natalia drew back, shocked. No one ever talked to her like that, at least not a commoner at a public event. Within the palace walls was another matter altogether. ‘You should know,’ she told him coldly, ‘that I could have you thrown out of here for making remarks like that.’

‘Is that a threat?’

Natalia said nothing. It was a threat, and a useless one at that. She could go and fetch one of the liveried guards standing sentry at the doors to the palace ballroom, and she could request that they eject Ben Jackson from the premises. Whether they would do so was highly questionable. Ben Jackson was the brother of the future queen of Santina and, despite his family’s insalubrious background, an honoured guest. And the palace staff, on orders from her parents, took any of her requests with an irritating dose of cautious skepticism. She’d just been very foolish.

‘Consider yourself warned,’ she told him, and he laughed softly.

‘At least you have some sense.’

‘And you have no manners,’ she shot back.

His eyebrows lifted once again, and another mocking smile quirked that rather mobile mouth. ‘Kettle?’ he reminded her softly. ‘Pot?’

Natalia resisted the very strong urge to remind him she was of royal blood. And to kick him in the shins. Or maybe somewhere a bit higher. She plucked a flute of champagne from a circulating tray and took a large sip. ‘So,’ she said, eyeing him over the rim of her drink, ‘why are you considering spending time on Santina?’

Ben regarded her for a moment, and then seeming to shrug although his shoulders barely moved, he decided—thankfully—to be civil. ‘I’m starting a sports camp for the island’s disadvantaged youth.’

Surprise flickered through her. She’d expected him to say something about touring Santina’s sights, or renting a private yacht or palazzo. The usual reason a restless millionaire came to their shores. ‘How very charitable of you,’ she finally murmured.

‘Thank you.’

‘And I suppose you’re hoping to find the next Lionel Messi or David Beckham? Get a few kickbacks?’

Ben narrowed his eyes. ‘If you’re implying that my aim in starting this camp is to find a future star and benefit financially from it then you would be very much mistaken.’

‘Oh, come now. Surely you can’t deny you have something of an ulterior motive? Or are you going to spend however many weeks or months setting up this little camp with no profit whatsoever?’

‘As incredible as it seems to you, Your Highness,’ Ben murmured, ‘yes.’

Natalia shook her head. She knew enough about business—or at least men—to realise that no one did anything for free. There was always a price; it just depended on who paid it. And even if Ben had the saintliest motives possible, she still liked to annoy him. Especially since he’d annoyed her so much. ‘Perhaps not a future star, then,’ she acknowledged, ‘but the publicity can’t be bad.’

‘You know what they say about publicity. No publicity is bad publicity, except I don’t think that’s quite true in your case?’ He left it as a question, but the iron in his eyes made Natalia quite sure that he had no doubt about the publicity she’d had—or its accuracy. Only last week she’d been photographed leaving a club at 4:00 a.m., in the company of two well-known jet-setting playboys. A man like Ben Jackson probably found that shocking—and shameless. ‘In any case,’ he continued, ‘the amount of publicity generated by a youth club on this small island will be negligible to my business or its profits.’

Natalia didn’t know whether to be amused or outraged by his complete dismissal of this small island. She was a bit of both. Her mother would possibly swoon at such scorn. ‘Well,’ she said, keeping her voice careless, ‘since you seem so well-acquainted with the tabloids of Europe, I have no doubt you’ll be able to deliver the information into the right hands and guarantee yourself a front page or two.’

He stared at her for a moment, long enough to make her lose her edge of defiance and start to squirm. Or at least want to squirm. Thankfully she remained quite still. ‘Are you always this pleasant?’ he finally enquired.

‘No, I’m not,’ she told him. ‘You happened to catch me at a good moment.’ He let out a dry chuckle, surprising her. So boring Ben Jackson possessed a sense of humour. A small one.

‘I shudder at the thought of catching you at a bad one,’ he told her, and his voice was low and honeyed enough to slide right over her senses. Restrained and boring he may be, but he was also all too attractive.

Natalia knew she had been rather rude to him, but only because she’d felt so defensive. As soon as she’d met Ben Jackson he’d examined and dismissed her, all in the space of a few minutes. She’d spent a long time perfecting her air of polished, jaded sophistication, and she didn’t like someone like Ben blowing it. Seeing right through it. Laughing at her. ‘Shudder away,’ she told him. ‘Somehow I don’t think we’ll be meeting again.’

Ben Jackson let his gaze sweep slowly over her—far too slowly, for Natalia felt not only as if he were seeing right through her, but stripping the clothes from her body. Not that she was wearing much. Her silver-spangled dress was haute couture but very short, with a plunging V neckline. She felt her body heat all over under his deliberate scrutiny, and knew Ben Jackson saw the revealing colour wash over her. Unfortunately she went blotchy when she blushed. Not at all the look she was going for, and a ridiculous response to a man who had treated her abominably. She needed to get out of here, before Ben Jackson saw—and knew—too much.

Ben watched Natalia flush with interest and a sudden kick of lust. She was a beautiful woman, he had to give her that. Sexy, sophisticated, with a wicked glint in her eye and a proud tilt to her chin. The dress she wore was outrageous. In other circumstances, he would have enjoyed suggesting they both get out of here and go somewhere a little more private. Very private. Yet he was quite certain, from what he’d read and now just experienced, that Princess Natalia didn’t do private. Not like he did. He’d had enough scurrilous publicity for a lifetime, and he’d seen its effects tear through his family, a tornado of rumours and lies.

No, he had another suggestion for the princess. He watched her start to turn away, still proud, still bristling with affront, and he said, almost lazily, ‘You can dismiss my football camp all you want, Princess, as some reprehensible publicity stunt, but I guarantee you wouldn’t last a day—no, an hour—there serving as a volunteer.’

Natalia turned back, eyes narrowed to jade slits. ‘I wouldn’t want to volunteer even for an hour,’ she snapped.

Ben grinned; he couldn’t help himself. Sparring with her invigorated him, made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t in a long time … even if she was completely annoying. ‘That doesn’t surprise me at all.’

‘Let me clarify,’ she said icily. ‘I would not want to volunteer if you were present.’

‘I bother you that much?’ he enquired, and he couldn’t keep the obvious innuendo from lacing his words. She bothered him. In more ways than one.

‘I simply prefer not to spend my time with arrogant boors.’

He chuckled drily, reluctantly admiring that she never let up. Not for one second. ‘You’ve summed me up quite quickly.’

‘As you have me,’ she pointed out, and to his surprise he thought he heard a thread of hurt underneath her magnificent disdain. The possibility made him feel uncomfortable, almost disappointed. He wanted to take Princess Natalia at face value, no more.

‘Still,’ he said. ‘You should volunteer.’ He didn’t really mean it, of course. The thought of the princess swanning through his office, disrupting his efficient staff and generating all kinds of speculative publicity was definitely not something he wanted. Yet he couldn’t keep from baiting her.

‘Thank you for the suggestion,’ she told him sweetly, ‘but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.’

Now annoyance prickled under his skin, even though he knew he was being unreasonable. As unreasonable as the princess, refusing to even consider such a thing. ‘It’s so beneath you?’ he enquired silkily.

Her chin lifted and her eyes glittered. ‘You seem to think so.’

‘I think it could be good for you.’

‘Teach me a lesson? Thank you, but no. Go ahead and do your little pet project, make yourself feel better, but leave me out of it.’

Annoyance turned to anger. Ben knew he was reacting emotionally to this woman’s taunts, yet he couldn’t keep himself from it, from feeling the anger surge through him at the way she’d dismissed not just him, but something that was so important to him. Already she was turning away. ‘I’ll make you a wager,’ he told her in steely challenge, and she stilled.

‘A wager? I don’t gamble, Mr Jackson.’

‘Please, call me Ben.’ She smiled frostily and said nothing. He took a step closer to her. ‘This isn’t exactly a gamble, Your Highness. More a test of your mettle.’ Her expression turned stony, and Ben knew what he wanted. He could handle the princess’s theatrics, and even the publicity. Besides, with so much going on with the royal family, were the tabloids really going to jump on Princess Natalia for going to an office every day? And the thought of seeing her taken down a notch or two, or even learning something, was very attractive indeed.

As was she … For a second Ben questioned just why he was doing this. Then he thrust the thought aside, and dipped his head so he could inhale her surprising, citrusy scent, feel the feminine warmth of her only inches away. ‘I’ll bet,’ Ben whispered, ‘that I could convince your father to make you volunteer.’

She stiffened, half turned to face him, and if Ben had moved at all, their lips would have touched. He felt a jolt of lust, the depth and strength of his attraction surprising him, alarming him even. Too much. He could tell she wanted to take a step backwards, but she refused. She angled her head so she was looking up at him, and he could see the golden flecks in her eyes, a tiny mole at the corner of her mouth.

‘Convince my father? I hardly think so.’

‘Then you’ll take the bet?’

Natalia eyed him coldly, and he knew she was torn between proving herself and staying safe. As was he … Just what was he thinking, inviting Natalia into his office, his life? Yet as her lashes swept downwards, hiding any emotion revealed in her eyes, he realised he didn’t care. He wanted this.

‘I didn’t say that,’ she finally said.

‘Scared, Your Highness?’

Natalia drew herself up. ‘You take the most appalling liberties, Ben. And no, I’m not scared. I’m just not interested. And I highly doubt my father would so much as grant you an audience, much less listen to your argument.’

Her resistance just made him want to push more. ‘Then why not take the bet?’

‘Why should I?’

‘Of course. Something has to be in it for you.’

‘Is there something in it for me?’ she enquired sweetly. ‘Such as you printing a public apology to me for your rude behavior in every tabloid newspaper from here to London?’

He laughed softly. ‘What an odd thing to request. It’s not as if anyone has overheard our conversation.’

‘I’d still like to see you grovel.’

‘I bet you would.’

Her eyes flashed and attraction sparked between them again, threatening to ignite to flame. Ben knew Natalia could feel it. He certainly could. Should he let her off the hook, keep them both from getting burned? He’d wanted to keep a low profile on Santina, and being involved in any way with Natalia would surely put paid to that. Besides the princess was exactly the kind of woman he couldn’t stand. Yet still he said nothing, didn’t move.

‘You really are a betting man,’ Natalia finally drawled. She shrugged as if she hadn’t a care in the world. ‘All right, go ahead and attempt to convince my father. You won’t get very far. And if I win, and he refuses to grant your request …’ She paused, and Ben waited, adrenalin coursing through him as if he were on the football pitch. This certainly was an even match. He couldn’t wait to hear what she wanted from him. ‘Then you are mine to command for a day.’ Command …? Provocative images blazed through Ben’s mind. Natalia smiled. ‘Fair?’

‘And if I win?’ he murmured, his gaze heavy and intent on hers.

‘Then I volunteer,’ she answered with a shrug. ‘And you get to command me anyway.’

She spoke without innuendo, yet it was there anyway. Desire pulsed in his blood, fired through him. He could handle it, Ben told himself. He could handle her. ‘I look forward to it,’ he murmured, and put out his hand for her to shake. He wanted to touch her. ‘So we’re agreed?’

Defiantly Natalia took his hand, and Ben saw her react to the touch of his fingers enfolding hers, saw it in the flaring of her eyes, that little hitch of breath. Then she smiled as if she hadn’t a care in the world. ‘It’s a deal.’